


Would I Lie to You?

by Bloodrose84



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: First Kiss, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Pining, soft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 16:00:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28816014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bloodrose84/pseuds/Bloodrose84
Summary: Crowley has never been anything but honest with Aziraphale. The problem is, Aziraphale has never been very good atlistening.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 51





	1. In the Begining

The sky was clearing, now. Whatever that water from the sky had been ( _rain_ a little voice in the back of Aziraphale’s mind told him) it was over now. The start of something new, he supposed, although he didn’t feel like it could be the start of anything good. It hadn’t been unpleasant, exactly, but definitely hadn’t felt like paradise.

Aziraphale watched until the two humans walked over the horizon and out of sight. With a heavy sigh, he turned to look at the being stood next to him. The demon Crawley’s eyes were glued to where the humans had vanished from view. He looked…wistful. As if sensing Aziraphale’s gaze, he glanced over and - to Aziraphale’s great surprise - turned a faint shade of pink. Was he _embarrassed_? It was hard to tell, these human corporations were awfully complicated. Unnecessarily so, really. He really should be going, but it seemed rude to just turn and depart without so much as a ‘farewell’.

“I suppose you’ll be popping off back to Hell, then?”

Crawley gave him a withering look. “Popping back? It’s hardly a day trip. It’s eternal damnation.”

“Well, I mean…not really for you, you’re more…um…” he trailed off.

“What, because I’m a demon I must enjoy it down there?”

“Well…yes.” Aziraphale said. Crawley eyed him, looking disappointed. Aziraphale found himself feeling oddly guilty, although he was sure he had no idea why. “Besides,” he continued hurriedly, growing uncomfortable with the silence, “you’ve caused plenty of trouble up here. I’m sure they’ll be thrilled with you…”

“Unless I’ve done the right thing.”

“Unless you’ve done the right thing.” Aziraphale agreed weakly. He swallowed, looking back at the horizon before focusing on Crawley again. “Are you saying you _don’t_ enjoy it down there?”

“Would you?”

“I’m an angel.”

Crawley cocked his head. “What’s your point?”

“Well, I…” Aziraphale frowned. What _was_ his point? “I just meant you’re…evil.”

“Right. Evil. Of course.” Crawley looked down at his feet; a strange, stiff smirk on his face. Aziraphale had the distinct impression he’d offended the demon somehow, although he had no idea what he could possibly have said wrong. He watched Crawley curiously, wishing he knew what the other was thinking.

_No. What is the matter with you? Why does it matter what the demon thinks?_

There was something about this particular demon though, something that seemed to echo within Aziraphale like the answer to a question he couldn’t quite remember. Crawley caught him staring and raised an eyebrow. Aziraphale coughed, flustered.

“Anyway, I should probably, you know, tidy up a bit…great big hole in the wall and all that.”

“Right. Yes. Of course.” Crawley glanced up at Aziraphale’s wing, which for some reason was still extended over his head. “Thanks for the assist.”

“Oh, um…you’re welcome. Anytime.”

“Anytime?” Crawley mocked. Aziraphale cleared his throat awkwardly. Crawley laughed, and there was a tinge of cruelty in it that set Aziraphale’s teeth on edge. Without really thinking about it he met Crawley’s eyes, his gaze steady.

“Absolutely. _Anytime_.”

Crawley’s yellow eyes widened a fraction in shock, but he quickly seemed to recover. “Kindness towards a demon? You want to be careful, little angel.” He smiled lasciviously. “Or I might just fall in love with you.”

Aziraphale huffed, embarrassed. “Well, I…there’s no need for…oh, go away.”

Crawley laughed again, but it sounded different this time. Lighter.

“See you around, angel.” And then he was gone; slithering down the wall as the large black snake. Aziraphale watched him go.

“I hope not.” he said to himself.


	2. Chapter 2

It had looked like it was going to be quite a nice day that morning. Aziraphale glanced up at the sky, trying to ignore the tight, niggling feeling in his gut. Not so nice any more, nothing but threatening grey clouds.

_All these people…_

No. It was necessary. It was The Plan. It wasn’t his place to understand it, just to do his part in carrying it out however he could. Which, in this instance, was a purely supervisory role. _Make sure Noah and his family get on board the Ark with two of every animal. Keep your distance. Don’t interfere unless something goes drastically wrong._ He could do that. It was easy. And it wasn’t like he was killing these people himself…

“Hello, Aziraphale!”

The tightness in Aziraphale’s gut intensified. “Crawley.” he said awkwardly. He wasn't sure what it was, but something about the demon made him feel slightly odd, made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. The way he was looking at him right now reminded Aziraphale of a wild animal watching its prey. At least he seemed to be remaining civil, not making any sudden moves, not even getting too close - at least until the rain started when he suddenly stepped into Aziraphale’s personal space. Aziraphale’s mind flashed instantly back to the wall at Eden but unlike then there was no anxiety, no sense of _not knowing_ \- there was an urgency to Crawley’s gaze, an intensity that felt like it burned Aziraphale right to his core.

“We can help them.” Crawley said quietly.

“What? No!”

“Just some of them.”

“No.”

“Just the kids. We could do it. You and me. Get them to safety. I can't do it alone.”

“I said _no_.”

The rain was coming down harder now. People were slipping on the suddenly boggy ground, there were cries and screams beginning to fill the air.

“Aziraphale-”

“You need to leave. Now. I _will_ make you if I have to.”

Crawley glared at him and, without another word, spread his wings and took flight. Aziraphale winced as another scream pierced the air. He quickly took flight after the departing dark shape of the demon. He followed Crawley all the way to a small cave set high up in a mountainside. Far enough away that they could no longer hear the people dying, not so far that they weren’t still in the downpour. Aziraphale shook his sodden wings with a grimace and quickly miracled himself dry. He looked quizzically around. He had assumed Crawley was up to something, had some sort of diabolical plan - but he just gave Aziraphale a filthy look and settled himself on a rock near the cave entrance, gazing morosely out of the entrance at the deluge outside.

Aziraphale was already regretting following Crawley. He should have just left, made his report to Gabriel and been done with the whole thing. He had been doing so _well_ \- working hard, excelling at everything asked of him…there had even been talk of a commendation. And now look at him. He’d failed his task, he'd lost a unicorn and was now he was stood in a damp cave on a hillside which was probably home to all sorts of Her (lovely, wonderful, definitely not creepy or alarming) creatures. With a demon. Wonderful.

“We _could_ have saved them, you know.”

They’d been in silence for so long that Crawley’s words almost made Aziraphale jump. It took him a second to register what Crawley had said and then he frowned indignantly. “No. You couldn’t.”

Crawley laughed mirthlessly. “Right. Against regulations.”

“Well, exactly.”

“And people say I’m the evil one.”

“It’s not _evil.”_ Aziraphale protested, shocked. “The Almighty has a reason for everything. Their deaths mean something.”

“What? What do they mean, then?” Crawley challenged.

“Well I don’t know, do I? I’m not privy to these things. But clearly they must mean something good if Hell’s agent was sent to interfere!”

Crawley scowled at him. “I’m not here for _them_. I was just curious. Wanted to see what was going on.” he sniffed.

“Then why try to-”

“Save lives?”

“Well…yes.”

Crawley hesitated, then shook his head. “I’m not doing this. I’m not defending myself to you.” he turned to look out of the cave entrance again, muttering something under his breath that Aziraphale was sure was less than complimentary. Aziraphale studied him in the half light. Who _was_ Crawley, really? Something about him definitely had an affect on Aziraphale but what that was he had absolutely no idea. Aziraphale had known plenty of demons in his time, but he could honestly say none were quite like this one. He didn't believe for a second that Crawley was here independently of Hell's instructions, but even so, if Aziraphale didn’t know any better he’d say the demon seemed…sad. It was ridiculous, of course.

“Will you stop staring at me?” Crawley spat, not turning his head. Aziraphale felt himself blush.

“I wasn’t staring.” he denied, averting his gaze.

“I can almost literally feel it. Ssssstop it.” he made an odd sort of frustrated huffing noise.

“You just seem…” Aziraphale trailed off. Crawley looked at him then, cocking his head to one side curiously.

“I seem…what?”

“I. I don’t…you don’t seem…alright.”

Crawley blinked and Aziraphale could have sworn he saw something something open and vulnerable behind the yellow eyes that seemed almost indecent for a demon, before Crawley quickly raised his guard again.

“You’re going to make me think you _care_ , Angel.” he said quietly.

“I care about all Her creations-”

Crawley sneered. “I’m not _Hers_.” he spat venomously. “She has no control over anything I-”

“Why did you fall?”

Crawley froze. It took Aziraphale a few seconds to realise he’d spoken aloud, and he wondered if he should take it back. It was quite personal, he supposed, the reason one had lost the love of God and condemned themselves to eternal damnation. He wondered absently if he were about to be discorporated - Crawley did look like he might attack. Aziraphale subtly shifted his feet into a more defensive position and said nothing, allowing the silence to oppress them as Crawley stared at him.

“None of your business.” Crawley eventually said, stiffly.

“Right. Sorry.” Aziraphale leant against the wall of the cave. Silence fell over the two of them again. Aziraphale stared out at the rain, wondering how much longer he’d have to endure this - or whether it would be worth the discomfort of simply flying through the storm again to get away.

“I questioned.” Crawley said quietly. Aziraphale blinked, surprised, and waited for him to continue. But he said nothing else.

“You questioned?” Aziraphale prompted, “Questioned what?”

“Does it matter?” he snapped. Aziraphale blinked.

“It just doesn’t seem very…damning, that’s all.”

Crawley turned to look at him. “You wouldn’t think.” he looked back outside. “So don’t talk to me about Her Plan. Don’t talk to me about faith and trust, because I know what She’s capable of and it is _not_ all for the ‘greater good’.”

Aziraphale stared at him, dumbstruck. Twice, he opened his mouth to respond but couldn’t think of anything to say. _He’s a_ ** _ **demon**_** , he reminded himself sternly. Of course there must be more to this whole ‘questioning’ than he was letting on. The Almighty wouldn’t cast someone out without good reason…no, this was clearly some sort of ploy. Well fine. If Crawley didn’t want to share his story that was his own business. But whatever the truth was, it obviously hurt Crawley and Aziraphale couldn’t help but feel a little bad. Smiting an enemy was one thing but when said enemy was sitting in a cave looking bedraggled and sorry for himself it felt quite different.

“I’m sorry.” he said quietly.

There was a pause. “Excuse me?”

“I said I’m sorry.” He said again, a little louder this time. “I don’t know the ins and outs of your…experience. But obviously it pains you and…I’m sorry.”

“Oh. Ok.” Crawley said softly, still not looking at him.

“Well. Yes. Fine.”

“I don’t agree with you about all of…this. They shouldn’t have died. But…I appreciate…um. Thank you.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “Of course. You’re welcome.”

“You really shouldn’t be so kind to me, though.”

“Hmm.”

“It could be dangerous.” Crawley sighed. His voice dropped so low that Aziraphale wasn’t even sure if he was supposed to have heard that remark, and he wasn’t sure what it meant anyway so he decided the best course of action was just to remain silent.


	3. Chapter 3

Aziraphale looked up from the manuscript he was poring over, casting an assessing eye at the sky outside his window. It must be nearly time for the other scholars to be waking up (and, by extension, for himself to go through the motions of pretending he hadn’t been up all night working). Before he had a chance to rouse himself, however, there was a timid knock at his door.

“Enter.” Aziraphale called automatically before wincing and shooting a despairing glance at his obviously un-slept in bed. Hopefully whoever it was wouldn’t notice.

The door opened and a young girl entered - one of the servants, Aziraphale knew, but he couldn’t for the life of him remember her name (much to his chagrin).

“Pardon me, sir, but there’s a message been sent for you. A merchant from across the sea, he says he has writings you may be interested in.”

“Oh?” Aziraphale glanced at the manuscript he was working on copying out. He really didn’t want to leave it right now. “Can’t Father Elmund go?”

The girl looked nervous. “I’m sorry sir, the message was sent for you specifically.”

 _Oh_.

“The man who brought the message, what did he look like? Red hair?”

“Yes sir…”

Aziraphale sighed, frustrated. “Very well. Thank you, um…yes, thank you. Where did the message say to meet?”

***

Aziraphale slipped into the tavern, eyes darting quickly about until they settled on a now familiar figure sat in a far corner. He slid into the seat next to him.

“A merchant? Really?”

Crowley raised an eyebrow. “Well I had to say something. I couldn’t exactly go in to see you, you live in a monastery. Holy ground, remember?”

Aziraphale flushed. “Right. Well. What do you want?”

“Just wanted to check in. See how you were doing.”

Aziraphale suddenly felt alert. “Why? Have your people said something? Is anything-”

“No, no, nothing like that. All going along nicely, I’m getting credit for horrible human tragedies, the usual.”

“I see.” Aziraphale looked at him, puzzled. “Then why did you want to check in?”

Crowley ran a hand through his hair, slightly awkwardly. “It’s…I don’t know, it’s been a long time. I thought we should…take notes of what the other is working on.”

“ _Notes_? We’re not collaborating down here, Crowley. We’re on opposing sides. I’m not giving you information.”

“Maybe I just wanted to see you.” Crowley spoke quickly, not looking at him. Aziraphale rolled his eyes.

“Right. You wanted to see me. Well, if there was nothing else, I do have a lot of work to do, so…what’s this?”

Crowley had pulled a package bound in cloth out of a bag at his feet. He handed it to Aziraphale who stared at it cautiously.

“I told you. I brought writings. Manuscripts, poems of battle, you know. Thought you might be interested.” he shrugged.

“I. Didn't think you actually brought...” Aziraphale opened the package, glancing through the papers within. He had to admit some of it did look interesting. “What’s the catch?” he asked suspiciously.

“Nothing. I just…well, call it doing you a favour.”

“A favour.” Aziraphale hesitated. The trouble with favours is that the other party did tend to expect a favour in return. He didn’t much fancy being indebted to a demon. Who knew what sort of depraved or dark thing he might ask Aziraphale to do? Ok, so Aziraphale had never actually known him to _do_ anything even remotely dark or depraved, but he assumed there must be a lot of it going on just without his knowing about it. He looked up at Crowley but he was looking around at the other patrons. He supposed there wasn’t actually any reason he would have to do anything for the demon…he was the stronger in a fight, he knew that, and really what harm could it do to let Crowley believe he had won something? “Thank you, Crowley.”

Crowley looked it him, a surprised, pleased smile on his face.

Aziraphale smiled back, tucking the papers into his bag (he hadn’t actually brought a bag with him but, well, he needed one now and so he had one) and stood up.

“You’re leaving?” Crowley asked.

“Was there anything else?”

“Well, I mean, you’re here now. We could, I don’t know, get something to eat?”

Aziraphale shook his head. “Like I said, I have work to do. Another time, perhaps?”

Crowley’s eyes widened slightly. "I’d...I'd like that.”

“Ok. Well…see you another time then, I suppose.”

“It’s a date.” Crowley grinned. Aziraphale rolled his eyes.

“Goodbye, Crowley.”

He turned and walked out of the tavern without looking back. _Honestly_. Get something to eat - like they were companions. Like they were _friends_. He would admit that they had formed an…acquaintanceship, of a sort…over the centuries. They tolerated one another. Didn’t particularly _dislike_ one another. But they had never really socialised, not outside of the few times their assignments had intertwined. Crowley must be hoping Aziraphale would slip up, reveal some sort of information about his current assignment if he let his guard down. Aziraphale smiled to himself. Clearly he’d have to keep a closer eye on Crowley if (when) they saw each other again.


	4. Chapter 4

The next couple of millennia passed without particular incident. Aziraphale and Crowley met infrequently. And then the meetings became more frequent, when circumstance demanded. Aziraphale had to admit he had started enjoying the demon’s company more and more. He even found himself looking forward to the next time they saw each other which was why it was a surprise to reach out one day and realise Crowley was no longer staying where he thought he was.

Surely Crowley would have mentioned if Hell was sending him somewhere else?

Although now he thought of it…when was the last time he’d actually spoken to Crowley? There had been that time in China…but no, that was centuries ago. London? Aziraphale frowned. Now that he thought of it, it had been longer than he’d realised since he saw the demon. He’d known vaguely where he was an had just been assuming work was keeping them apart…but they hadn’t spent this long apart since the Beginning.

Aziraphale reached out again, searching for that spark of occult power that burned around Crowley, but he couldn’t find it. It seemed the demon wasn’t even in the country any more.

“Odd.” Aziraphale murmured to himself. Possibly this would require more attention when he was done with his latest assignment.

* * *

The assignment took longer than expected, and Aziraphale had almost completely put Crowley out of his mind. He had only just succeeded in converting the town Gabriel had assigned him to, and he had been given a very firm talking to about his performance.

He was walking through a market in Marrakesh, enjoying the humanity of it all. A small break before he got back to work again, that was what he needed. A chance to relax - try some new foods, meet some new people, discover some new books…the market was awash with sounds and smells and colours. Aziraphale beamed with joy, taking it all in. The stalls and their wares, the clothing, the animals-

_-A flash of red disappearing into the crowd-_

Aziraphale’s head whipped around so fast he heard his neck crack. Narrowing his eyes, he scanned the crowds, searching for the flash of red hair he’d spotted. He squeezed his way through some people with a few muttered apologies, until he finally caught sight of it again a few metres away.

“Crowley?”

The figure before him tensed and slowly, almost reluctantly, turned to reveal the familiar dark glasses and pointed features.

“Hey, angel.” he muttered.

“What are you doing here?”

“Oh, you know…this and that.”

Aziraphale narrowed his eyes, instantly on alert. It wasn’t like Crowley to be so evasive, not for a long time. What was he up to?

“It’s good to see you.”

Crowley inhaled sharply. “You too, Aziraphale.”

There was something in his tone that Aziraphale couldn't place. Something almost sad. “Well. Now that we’re both here. Let’s have a drink, shall we?”

“I don’t know…I mean…sure. Lead the way, Angel.”

They wandered around until they found a small establishment they could sit and talk in. They made small talk for a while, but Aziraphale found himself growing increasingly concerned. Crowley wasn’t acting like himself at all. He waited to see if the demon would say anything, but eventually he couldn’t help himself. He set down his drink with a sigh.

“Go on, then, tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “Something is obviously wrong, Crowley.”

“No it isn’t.”

“You’re avoiding eye contact-”

“How would you know?” Crowley interrupted, gesturing at him glasses. Aziraphale ignored him.

“- you’re nursing that drink as if it’s your first born, and you’ve been avoiding me for the better part of two centuries. I’ve not seen you since…I’m not sure I can even remember. And I know full well you were in Germany a few years ago and yet you didn’t try and find me, didn’t even attempt to suggest the…” his voice dropped, “the _arrangement,_ despite the fact we were working in the same area. So. What’s going on?”

“Nothing, angel. Honestly, everything is fine. I’m fine.”

“Crowley.”

Crowley gave an irritated sigh and downed his drink in one. “Look, I’d rather not say. It’s awkward and it’s not relevant so…”

“Crowley, if it’s upsetting you then of course it’s relevant.”

Crowley froze, staring down at the table. “It’s not upsetting me, it’s…” he sighed. “Look, honestly Aziraphale, just drop it.”

“I wont.”

“Please?”

“Just tell me.”

“I’m in love with you.”

A deafening silence seemed to fill the space around them. Aziraphale stared at Crowley, completely derailed. “…I’m sorry?”

“I know I’ve joked about it in the past, I just…I mean, I didn’t think I’d actually…” Crowley growled. “I know you don’t feel the same way. But. You’re good to me and I…yeah. Well.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale gaped at him. _He’s in love with me_? That didn’t make sense, how could he possibly-

“I just need some time away, get my head together, so I can stop feeling like this. If we could just agree to stay out of each others way for a millennium or so…”

Aziraphale’s mind screeched to a halt. _Ah._ Well that made sense of it. Crowley wasn’t in love with him, he just wanted him out of the way for some reason so he was trying to make him uncomfortable. He tried to ignore the spike of hurt that caused him - he’d been letting himself grow fond of Crowley, forgetting his true nature. Well. Whatever Crowley was planning he’d have to put up with Aziraphale trying to stop him. He wasn’t falling for this.

(he pointedly ignored the voice in his head telling him he’d miss being away from Crowley for that long. It wasn’t about that. It was about Crowley’s using love as some sort of weapon. Who did something like that?)

“Don’t be ridiculous.” he scoffed. “There’s no need for that.”

“What?” Crowley stared at him, nonplussed.

“So you’re in love with me, it’s…well, it’s lovely.”

“You don’t…mind?”

“Why would I mind being loved?”

“Well, I mean…” Crowley seemed to be having some sort of internal crisis. “I thought…in stories and things it’s always awkward with unrequited love. The object of affection tends to find it uncomfortable so I assumed-”

“You’ve been spending far too much time with humans, my dear.” Aziraphale said firmly. “It’s an honour to be loved by someone. I don’t find it uncomfortable in the slightest.”

“Oh. I mean, that’s…alright.”

“Unless you find it uncomfortable?”

“No!” Crowley said quickly. “No, I…no.”

“Right then.” Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. “No need for any more talk of staying away from each other. And no more avoiding me please.”

Crowley gave a disbelieving little laugh and smiled. “Alright then.”

Aziraphale watched Crowley staring into his glass, a small smile still on the demon’s face. _You’ll have to try harder than that, Crowley._


End file.
